Rise & Fall of an Underdog
by RyanHekk
Summary: Wrestling fiction following original character, Jake Reynolds as he begins training, and makes his debut into the world of professional wrestling, and has to face the demons that plague professional wrestlers every day.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Jake stood there staring at the building. It was an unimpressive structure; grey and drab and in desperate need of an upgrade. Like every other building on the street it looked as if time had forgotten about it, like time had stood still. But Jake was most interested in the sign. Dingy, cracked and hanging on by only one corner it read 'Diluzio's Gym and Training Centre'. The sign blew back and forth in the cool September wind and Jake took a step back for fear of it landing on his head, doing more damage than the activities that were about to take place inside the building.

Jake Reynolds was 19 years old, athletic and in need of an outlet. Only two days before he had read an ad in the local paper promoting this dilapidated building; promoting the training that went on inside. 'Learn how to be a pro wrestler' the ad had proclaimed above a picture of two sweaty men engaged in some form of grappling hold, the anguish on their faces screaming out at you from the page. This ad had probably not even elicited a glance from most readers but it grabbed Jake's attention and made him wonder if he could do it. He had been watching wrestling for as long as he could remember. His oldest memories of wrestling were sitting on his father's lap on a Saturday night and watching the matches while eating a giant bowl of popcorn. During the commercial breaks his father would practice the holds on Jake and let him elbow drop him from the top of the sofa. There were no pin falls; they always ended up on the floor in a heap, laughing until the action started up again on their old TV set. These were Jake's happiest memories of his father. After those Saturday nights there weren't many happy memories of his Dad. There weren't many memories at all.

But Jake wasn't standing outside a dirty old gym in the freezing autumn cold to take a trip down memory lane. He was there to try something new. Lord knows he needed it. Jake was a year out of high school and at first he didn't mind messing around, working his part time job and having fun. But soon he started to realise that all of his friends had disappeared. Most to college, some to relationships, and now Jake was alone. He had applied to colleges but his less than impressive grades and lack of extracurricular activities didn't appeal to any of them. His teachers had warned him that working out in the school gym wasn't enough. One over emotional History teacher had said "The only muscle you need to work out is your brain!" Jake had laughed this off as cheesy, sentimental garbage but after a year of inactivity his brain was one flabby muscle.

But that was the only flabby part of Jake Reynolds. Years of weight training had served his body well. Although he only stood 5'10", he had managed to heap 186 pounds onto his otherwise petite frame. He was by no means a monster but when he looked in the mirror he was happy with what he saw. Sure, he would love to be bigger but his pesky genetics always got in the way. Jake was contented to be a little big man and thought that his chiselled good looks made him the perfect candidate for professional wrestling training.

Jake looked down at his watch. It was already 10:10am and no one had arrived yet for the 10am training session. He was beginning to worry when from around the corner appeared a motley looking crew if Jake had ever seen one. There were six of them ranging in size from large to larger. Jake recognised most of them from the matches he had attended at the local rec centre by his house. He recognised two of them as the bitter enemies he had seen beating each other over the head with steel chairs. Today they laughed and patted each other on the back. This wasn't a complete shock to Jake. In the age of the internet and numerous fan sites, Jake was aware of the ins and outs of the business. He was what they called a 'smart mark'. But still, seeing these two men who usually bloodied each other to a pulp sipping coffees together and laughing did strike Jake as odd for a moment.

The wrestlers all shuffled past Jake, paying him no notice. Standing there in his sweat pants and hoody he probably looked like any number of fans they encountered on a weekly basis. But one older man who was obviously the leader of this muscle bound gang stopped and pointed at Jake.

"You that kid who called me the other day about starting your training", he said in a gruff voice that sounded as if it had had as rough a life as his scarred forehead.

"Yeah, I'm Jake Reynolds. I read about the training in the Gazette."

"Good. It's twenty bucks a session. But if you pay for the whole month up front it works out to fifteen."

Jake was a bit shocked at the quickness and bluntness of the mention of money. He had thought they would talk above moves and holds first or even his background but he simply nodded. He understood it was a business after all and that no business, especially one in such a rough part of town, can survive without the almighty dollar. While Jake was thinking all of this the gruff older wrestler looked him up and down.

"You work out?"

"Every morning and for a couple of extra hours on the weekend" Jake proudly replied, hoping he hadn't sounded too eager and overconfident.

"Well maybe we can get some more weight on ya. Come in. Oh, and we only take cash."

With that the older wrestler disappeared into the building. Jake still didn't know this gruff grappler's name but he had been too intimidated to ask. Although he had been watching wrestling all his life he had never actually spoken to a wrestler. It wasn't as if he was star struck but it was yet another wall of mystery crumbling down. Jake had passed from the world of fan into the world of participant. At least he would when he forked over his twenty bucks.

More wrestlers shuffled past Jake as he too entered the building. Jake instantly thought that the inside of the dingy warehouse certainly complimented the outside. As the wrestlers went around briskly shaking each other's hands, Jake looked around. There were countless posters covering the water stained and hole ridden walls. Some were new, advertising the upcoming matches, and some were so old they had yellowed and curled up in the corners. These advertised matches that had taken place long before Jake was born. He pulled his attention away from the walls and took in the rest of the place. There was a small locker room and a row of benches containing old towels and discarded items of clothing. There was a definite aroma in the air but Jake wasn't the prissy type; he could take it. The bulk of the warehouse was taken up by a rather ancient looking gym. There were no machines like the ones Jake used at his gym, just a lot of free weights and pulleys that Jake didn't even recognise. The floor was covered in the thin blue mats that Jake remembered from his PE lessons. But he didn't remember there being as many stained patches as there were covering these mats. In the corner of the space was the most impressive part of the scene. Jake felt the hairs stand up on his arms a little as he brushed his hands across the blue canvas of the first genuine wrestling ring he had ever touched. He pulled on the ropes and was surprised by the tension he felt. He wanted to jump straight in the ring and run around like a chicken with its head cut off but he knew he had to play it cool. Although he was bursting with excitement inside, he shrugged it off and stared at the squared circle.

"Alright, enough of the chit chat" shouted the still nameless boss. "Get your gear on and everyone on the mats. Jason lead them through some stretches and I'll be down in a minute."

With that Jake was thrown into his first day of training as a professional wrestler. No fanfare, no pomp and circumstance, just a bunch of guys groaning as they spread out on some dirty old mats. Jake removed his sweater and changed into his gym shoes. He was already sweating and he hadn't even done anything yet! But he was about to embark on a journey that would take him farther than he ever could have imagined. He had come to this dirty old building with a need to belong; to find somewhere he could fit in and make something of himself. And he was about to enter a brotherhood, a special fraternity, that he would never leave again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Jake could feel the vomit rising in the back of his throat. The harsh acidic sting made his eyes water and he fought as hard as he could to not bring up the meagre breakfast he had eaten that morning. As he sat on the side of the dirty old wrestling mats Jake wondered to himself why he had never felt this way when he worked out at the gym and he prayed that it was time for a break.

For the past hour Jake had done stretches that he had never even heard of before; stretching muscles he didn't even know he had! Jake thought he'd worked up a pretty strong neck in all of his years at the gym but after five or six different types of neck exercises he realised he hadn't. He had also never done so many sit-ups, push ups and squats in a single session. The squats alone were their own workout. Jake was aching all over and he hadn't even made it into the ring yet. He looked around and surveyed the scene. Most of the trainees were laughing and joking around having barely broken a sweat. There were a couple of what you might conservatively call 'fat', but liberally would call 'obese', wrestlers gasping for air on the floor. Their in ring work probably only amounted to sitting on people but Jake was impressed that they had attempted the workout. And then there was Jake. A self professed gym nut and fitness freak, kneeling over on the floor choking back his own puke. Twenty bucks well spent.

Just as Jake was starting to regain the feeling in most of his body, the gruff older wrestler called them all into the ring. Any hope Jake had of a break wafted out the window along with the sweet smell of sweat. For most of his life Jake had wondered what it would be like to step inside the squared circle and now that he had done it, the mystery was gone. It wasn't as bouncy as he had imagined; it actually felt quite rigid and wooden. This worried Jake and his already throbbing neck. Jake leaned back against the ropes, running into them a little to feel them move. But faced with his modest frame they barely budged. This was all turning out to be a lot more worrying then Jake had hoped.

The gruff older wrestler (who Jake had overheard being called Crusher) led the group through what he called "the most important part of wrestling", bumps. This literally meant learning how to fall properly. An especially chiselled guy who didn't look that much older than Jake led them through all the different types of bumps. Back bump from standing, back bump losing your feet, front bump and side bumps. In turns the regulars came to the centre, demonstrated all the bumps and retreated to a round of back slaps and praise. When one of the larger wrestlers messed up his front bump and landed crotch first onto the unforgiving mat, the group burst into fits of laughter and chanting. This didn't help to ease Jake's nerves any. Now it was his turn. He walked to the middle of the ring, heart pounding, and took his place. He tried to remember everything the Crusher had said while the bumps were being demonstrated. He ran it through his brain "Knees bent, palms out, tuck your chin." Not wanting to seem hesitant he thrust himself back onto the mat. The stars and little white dots came instantly and the reaction from the crowd soon followed.

"Don't forget to tuck your chin kid or you'll knock yourself out before anyone else gets the chance to!" shouted the Crusher from his perch on the corner turnbuckle.

Jake shook it off and completed the rest of his bumps. When he finished the crowd gave him a little round of applause. It may have been for his valiant attempt at the bumps or it may have been for not knocking himself unconscious but either way it made Jake smile to himself a little.

They ran though the bumps a few more times (Jake managed to tuck his chin in extra tight this time) and they then moved on to learning the ropes; literally. Jake watched as two of the trainees demonstrated the speed with which they could hit the ropes and also the timing that was required to not crash into each other in the middle. As they criss-crossed each other from one side of the ring to the next Jake remembered how little the ropes moved when he hit them and knew he would have to give it all he had. The Crusher motioned for Jake to step up. His counterpart in the exercise was around the same height but probably had thirty pounds on Jake. They hit the ropes and Jake ran as fast as he could to the other side. His back stung each time it hit the thinly protected steel wires.

"Faster!" the Crusher growled at Jake and his partner; a sly grin on his face.

But Jake misjudged his speed and ran straight into the shoulder of his rather large partner. It felt as if he'd hit a brick wall and he bounced off like a rag doll, hitting the mat in a heap. The beefy wrestler stretched out his hand to Jake.

"You alright man?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

Jake grabbed the wrestler's hand and hopped to his feet. The impact had taken his breath away and, as he tried to gain it back, he was relieved to hear that it was time for a break. As most of the trainees disappeared to get a bite to eat, Jake sat down to his packed lunch and quietly munched on a sandwich alone. The pain in his neck had subsided but in its place was the pain in his chest from running into his partner at top speed. But Jake was enjoying himself. He hadn't learned anyone's name yet and he was a long way from making friends but he was excited about all the possibilities ahead of him.

After lunch the Crusher ran them through some basic moves. The older more experienced trainees groaned but he insisted that remembering the basics was the key to any good wrestler. They ran through a collar and elbow tie up and some basic chain moves. The Crusher seemed pleased with how quickly Jake picked these up. Finally they worked on clotheslines which aggravated Jakes already throbbing shoulder and ribs. He fought through the pain and made it to the end of the session. Jake felt as if he'd finished a marathon. Like he'd climbed a mountain or finished a big game. In reality he'd made it through a simple day of training that he would repeat all over again the next week.

As Jake changed his shoes and put on his coat his partner from the rope running exercise approached him and stuck out his hand.

"You always shake hands at the end of training or matches. It's a tradition."

Jake grabbed his hand and tried to muster the manliest handshake he could. Truth be told, his partner's grip was like a vice and left Jake's hand throbbing almost as much as the rest of his body.

"I'm Steve by the way. Good work out there."

"Thanks. I'm Jake."

"You'll be back next week right Jake?"

"You bet!"

"Cool. See you around."

With that Steve lumbered his way off to his waiting buddies. They laughed and shook hands the whole way out of the building. Jake got to his feet as he noticed the Crusher approaching him. His hand was outstretched too.  
"Twenty bucks kid."

Jake riffled through his wallet and placed a crisp new twenty dollar bill into the Crusher's waiting palm.  
"Thanks." the Crusher said as he shook Jake's hand in return. If Jake had thought Steve's grip had been strong it was nothing compared to the arm wrenching shake he got from the Crusher.

"You can pay up front for the whole month next week and it'll only be fifteen bucks a week."

"Thanks Crusher"

"The name's Chris. I haven't been the Crusher for years. Good work out there. Keep that chin tucked in."

The Crusher/Chris waved back at Jake as he walked away. Jake noticed how he limped to the left as he walked and how he winced as he climbed the couple of stairs into his office. Years of ring action had obviously taken their toll on the Crusher's joints and left him battered. Jake began to walk out of the building and realized that he too was limping. One day of training and he had the same affected walk of a ring veteran; not something Jake wanted anyone else to notice.

Jake turned down the street and headed for his bus stop. His head was spinning and it wasn't from the incredible knock it had taken on the ring. Jake felt so proud inside that he could barely contain himself. He had been unsure about his ability when he's started out the day but he had made it through it and couldn't wait for next weekend. Tomorrow he would get up and go to his mundane job in a department store. Selling electronics to the nameless masses that passed through every day. But come next Saturday he would once again jump into the ring and learn the skills he needed to be a professional wrestler. And hopefully along the way he would find the sense of belonging and purpose he had been searching for.

After a gruelling first day of training Jake had relaxed at home with a bowl of popcorn and an old tape of one of his favourite wrestling pay-per-views. It was just like old times. Jake settled in for an early night and was amazed at how he didn't feel at all sore. His body had been stretched and extended in ways he didn't know possible a mere handful of hours earlier but as he lay his head on his pillow he felt fine. Sure he ached a bit and his neck was a bit stiff, but that was natural. He felt confident in his ability and that this wrestling thing wasn't going to be as tough as he had imagined. The next morning was going to be a different story though!


End file.
